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They made it down to dinner by seven, perhaps with less time to spare than Tim would have preferred, but they made it.
He’d lost track of time, and his brain had lost any access to his blood supply, when Lola stepped out of the bathroom. With her hair brushed back into a flowing mane, that lopsided smile solidly in place, and a clingy, mostly backless red dress custom-made for Lola’s sleek shape that spoke of elegance and roared of s*x. She didn’t take his breath away; she goddamn stole it and was never giving it back.
He’d told her to dress nice though they’d be back in the kitchen. He knew the others would as well.
They were the first downstairs, but the Secret Service detail was well ahead of them. They’d discreetly staked out the kitchen.
When Tim and Lola entered, his mama cam
